


Missed Connection

by Name1



Series: Fate Across the Miles [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: AU, Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Sorry Chicago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Name1/pseuds/Name1
Summary: Chicago was filled with parks and concert venues as well as large stadiums and coliseums which made it a hot spot for hosting sports teams in playoffs and tournaments.  On a typical day all manner of people could be found making their way out of O’Hare International Airport: business men and women, scientists presenting at conferences, athletes, sales representatives, and even big wig political figures.Din had seen it all working in the customer service business over the years. He’d met celebrities and drifters; rich and poor alike, and even the Vice-President once during a snow storm that shut down all domestic air travel a few years ago. It took a lot to surprise him anymore, but he actually did a double take when he glanced to his left. A woman had sat down at the very far end of the bar and even from here he could see she was stunning.
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Fate Across the Miles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883059
Comments: 60
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no idea where this came from but I had to get it out so here we are.  
> I never in a million years thought I'd write an AU and I know it's not everyone's thing......  
> Next post will be back to normal I promise. 
> 
> I have no clue what this is but I hope you enjoy it :D
> 
> Sorry for the typos. I'm fixing them as we speak.

Cara was pissed off beyond belief. American Airlines could kiss her ass, _her whole ass_ , for all she cared. She was never flying again. 

Humans belonged on the ground anyway.

She was expected to be in Miami the following day (Saturday) for an event at 5 in the afternoon but was she in The Sunshine State right now at 10PM on Friday?

No. She certainly was not.

A huge storm had rolled in and prevented her takeoff from LAX; her plane only finally taking off after they taxied for nearly two hours and found a break in the storm. She called her agent from the tarmac as soon as she knew she’d be late for her connection in ORD, but it seemed the storm on the West coast had delayed hundreds of flights across all major airlines and there was zero chance of her making another flight out of Chicago later that night. 

_Fuck._

The best she could hope for was first thing in the morning.

All connections had already left for the evening by the time the plane had begun its final descent, so when she disembarked at the gate in Chicago she followed the signs to ground transport/hotel. She could not believe she was laid over at O’Hare for the night. She was probably going to miss the Grand Opening she was the featured guest of honor at and the cherry on top of this perfect cake was the hotel situation. There was some big convention in town, and she had been informed it would be almost impossible to find a room. Strangely enough, there was a Hilton attached to the terminal but at this hour and with all the other flights delayed there was zero chance there were any rooms left. She’d probably end up spending the night in the airport. _Fuck._

She knew it was a waste of time to even try, but she kept following the signs to the on-site hotel anyway. If it was booked, she would just hire a car service from the lobby, no big deal. She stepped off the moving sidewalk and her heel got stuck in the grate causing her to step right out of her shoe. _Great. Could this night get any worse?_

…………

Din was irritable as he grabbed a clean towel to wipe down the bartop before the next patron sat down. Rationally, he knew ‘ _irritable_ ’ wasn’t a good look for a bartender who lived on tips, so he sucked it up and put on his friendliest face for the last four hours of his shift. It was only shortly after 10 but this night was dragging on forever. He wasn’t even supposed to be working tonight, that was the worst part. He originally had the night off but decided to be a good friend and cover for Dylan who wanted to go to the concert in the park tonight--he was sure as Hell regretting it now. The playoffs were on and the bar was more crowded than normal. The bar and the surrounding tables had been pretty busy all night with high turnover which meant tips were good, but he was exhausted. Not only was he manning the bar, he was also splitting half of the surrounding tables with Crystal, the only waitress working that section.

The bar was luckily separated from the Hilton restaurant itself so most people were there for drinks and only light bar food, which was good because he might be a good bartender, but he was a shitty waiter. He glanced at the nearest TV showing the game and saw it was the last quarter— _thank God_. The bar would start emptying out in another 20 minutes or so.

At the sound of shattering glass, he looked over and saw Crystal on her hands and knees picking up pieces of a broken martini glass with a towel. She was trying to help out by carrying trays of glasses from the back, but she was getting just as tired as he was. He grabbed the broom and dustpan and walked from behind the bar to help her. He had shooed her away from the bar itself when she reached into the ice machine with a glass tumbler instead of the plastic scoop, not once, _but twice_. That was all kind of dangerous, not to mention just dumb and a health code violation to boot, but he didn’t have the patience tonight to try to explain that to a 22 year old who already ‘knew everything’. They had been getting more and more swamped as the night went on and they didn’t close until two, but he was sure since the game was almost over they wouldn’t have any new customers meandering in for a while. _Shit, 3 more guys just sat down at the end of the bar._ So much for winding down….

_Could this night get any worse?_

……

Cara stood in line at the reception desk in the lobby watching several people ahead of her turned away for rooms, but she had waited that long and she was a Hilton Gold member so maybe that made a difference.

Turns out it did not.

What did make a difference was that Cheryl had called ahead hours ago and booked a room for her as soon as her flight was delayed at LAX. _'God Bless her agent_ ,' she thought. She'd have to remember to buy her some chocolate of something when she got back. 

She felt smug as shit walking away with her little paper sleeve holding her keycard with the room number and Wi-Fi password handwritten on the inside. Despite the smugness, the exhaustion and stress of the day was catching up with her and she wanted nothing more than to collapse face down on the mattress in her room. On second thought, she was too high-strung right now to sleep and a drink would probably help her relax. _Okay, change of plan--_ she would go in search of a drink; swinging by the bar in the lobby real quick and then head up to her room as fast as she could pay her bill.

She looks around as she enters the bar area, delineated by the change in flooring and lighting to separate it from the attached restaurant. There were almost no empty tables where she could camp out quietly, though the bar still had a few open stools. There was some big basketball playoff on all the televisions, so the crowd made sense.

_Quick drink. In and out. She could still do that at the bar._

In the time it took her to walk to the bar from the lobby she had gotten a text from her agent stating the earliest flight she could get booked on was 9am the following morning. _Ughhh._ Assuming there were no delays, she could still make it to Miami in time, but it was cutting it close for her liking.

She sat down on the barstool that had a high comfortable back at the end of the bar, propped her elbows on the table so she could bury her face in her hands in exhaustion (not to mention frustration) and waited.

Chicago was filled with parks and concert venues as well as large stadiums and coliseums which made it a hot spot for hosting sports teams in playoffs and tournaments. On a typical day all manner of people could be found making their way out of O’Hare International Airport: business men and women, scientists presenting at conferences, athletes, sales representatives, and even big wig political figures. Din had seen it all working in the customer service business over the years. He’d met celebrities and drifters; rich and poor alike, and even the Vice-President once during a snow storm that shut down all domestic air travel a few years ago. It took a lot to surprise him anymore, but he actually did a double take when he glanced to his left. A woman had sat down at the very far end of the bar and even from here he could see she was stunning. He watched as she put her face in her hands and dropped what he was doing to walk over to her. He hoped she hadn’t been waiting long; he hadn’t even seen her walk in he’d been so busy taking care of checks as the game wrapped up and patrons began filing out to return to their rooms.

"Um, excuse me," he said hesitantly, not wanting to startle her. "You okay?"

At the sound of his voice, she looked up from her hands at the bartender who was now standing in front of her. He was cute; maybe a few years older than her, but his face had a boyish charm under the dark facial hair that made him look somehow professional and rebellious at the same time. He wore black pants like her with a white button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and just at the edge of his cuff she caught a thick curve of black ink just peeking out. He had nice forearms, she noticed. Nice hands too… _working hands_ , like hers.

She mentally shook herself. _Was she seriously checking this guy out right now?_ She couldn’t remember the last time she’s been the slightest bit attracted to a stranger but there was just something about him. She hadn’t been interested in anything but work in years, but this guy seems so familiar somehow. She was no poet, but if she was she’d say it was almost like something in her thought it recognized something in him….. weird…..

And his voice.......Okay, so he had a really nice voice. _So what? That was just an observation, so sue her._

He had asked if she was okay before she got distracted by his stupid kind-of-handsome face so she should probably answer him. She rubbed one hand down her face in frustration before answering him with an honest response. "I can't get on the next flight until 9am. Fuck my life, but other than that everything’s just peachy."

He doesn’t seem the least bit off put by her vulgarity. "I'm guessing you got laid over from the storm that messed up the whole West coast?’ he asks, to make small-talk as he tries not to chuckle at her colorful vocabulary.

  
"Yeah. No offence to the _probably_ great city of Chicago,” she says, “but this really sucks."

He just smiled at that, though she wasn’t really trying to be funny. _He had a nice smile, she noticed._

"You traveling for work or vacation? You look pretty upset," he observes, as he cleans off the counter in front of her and puts down a clean coaster. "I hope you didn't miss a funeral or wedding or something." He hesitates. He doesn't see a ring on her finger but that doesn't really mean anything nowadays. "You’re not missing _your_ wedding are you?"

She can’t even help it. She barks out a sharp laugh. 'With _her_ love life?' she thinks amusedly, ‘ _Not likely….._ ’

"No, certainly not," she responds. "I’m traveling for work."

"You must love your job then,” he states. “Most people don't get too worked up getting delayed for a work trip. You should just sit back order, room service, and get a chair massage on the company’s tab."

Din was usually so good at maintaining small talk without babbling, but even he could tell he was running his mouth. She was gorgeous—that’s the only reason he could come up with to explain it. Her dark hair was almost the same color as the black blazer she was wearing over her silky white shirt. He never knew he liked dark hair so much until now. 

"So, uhhh. What can I get you?” he asked, trying to remember he was at work and his job was serving drinks. “Wine, beer? We have 12 kinds on tap."

"Just liquor.” She didn’t mean to sound so impolite--it just came out.

“Sure thing.” He didn’t want to bother her if she was stressed out, but he still cursed under his breath when two more people sat down at the bar pulling his attention away. “Here is a cocktail menu I'll be right back,” he said, as he handed her the printed card and walked down the length of the bar.

Luckily the two men just wanted a beer and not even draft. He popped open two bottles, started a tab, and walked back to the woman who was now scowling at her cell phone.

“What did you decide on?” he asked, and watched as she turned off her phone and put it in her pocket.

She’s not picky, she just wants to relax. “I'm supposed to be in Miami right now,” she said, “what do they drink in Miami?”

“Something tropical,” he suggests. "Maybe a pina colada, hurricane, or a mohito?" he offers, as drinks he can make. "I have fresh mint."

"Nah, too classy,” she says. “What about just a margarita on the rocks?"

“Coming right up,” he calls back to her, as he’s already turned to grab a clean glass.

"and extra tequila," she adds just as he turns. He turns back at the sound of her voice.

"In the drink or as a shot? he asks, to clarify, though he’s already grabbed a shot glass out of habit.

"Shot." She noticed how curt and demanding that sounded from her mouth. _‘Why am I being such a bitch_?’ she thought. This guy was just doing his job and he was cute too. She was only slightly embarrassed as she added on a quiet ‘ _thanks_ ’ after the fact. She wasn't even sure if he had heard her. The bar area was warm with all the TVs and people milling about so she took off her black blazer and hung it over her chair. A couple of people at the bar turned to look at her but she was used to being stared at. 

He heard her quiet ‘ _thanks_ ,’ and it made him feel warm. Lot of people missed flights and were in terrible moods because of it, but they didn’t all sort of apologize for it after the fact. Din watched her out of the corner of his eye as she took off her jacket. She had on a white silky sleeveless blouse and he felt his poor eyes were going to get whiplash trying to decide what NOT to stare at. The shirt itself covered her shoulders but it was the plunging neckline that surprised him. When looked at head-on it appeared very conservative, but when she moved even a little he could see a stripe of smooth skin stretching endlessly down the front of her chest. The low cut neckline revealed the most amazing cleavage he had ever seen, but the lack of sleeves drew his eyes to her bare arms under her covered shoulders.

They were like a work of art.

The track bar lights shone down and highlighted her pale skin and muscle of her shapely arms which held his attention to an embarrassing extent. From a safe distance he got a good look at her face too. He was too shy to stare right at her up close, but from a distance he could see the light and shadows play across her face and he was amazed. Absolutely no one looked good in bar lighting, but she was clearly the exception. She was stunning. 

_Don't stare at her chest, don't stare at her arms, don't stare at her face._

_Don't stare at her chest, don't stare at her arms, don't stare at her face._

_Don't stare at her chest, don't stare at her arms, don't stare at her face._

It was like a mantra he had to say over and over again as he approached her once more.

He had to look at something though and her face was probably the safest bet even as beautiful as it was. He would just look her in the eyes like he did everyone else. Or try to….

She looked up as the bartender returned with her drink.

“Look, sorry for being such a bitch,” she said in apology for being short earlier. “Thank you for the drink.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said kindly. “Lots of people are here because they missed their flight. I get it a lot.”

That made her wince, which made him stop babbling. He wanted to assure her it was commonplace and not a big deal but that seemed to make her more upset. “But you shouldn't,” she insists. “It's not _your_ fault.”

‘ _Why did she have to be beautiful AND nice?_ ’ he thought. He was so screwed. Niceness was his weakness and the rest of her didn’t hurt either.

“Do you want to start over?” he said cheerfully, as he held out his hand and donned a smirk.

‘ _This guy was such a dork_ ,’ she thought, so why did she find herself going along with it?

“I'm Din,” he said, as he took the hand she offered. At least she didn’t leave him hanging…

“Cara,” she said in return.

“Nice to meet you Cara,” he returned politely, letting go of her hand. “What brings you to the _probably_ great city of Chicago?” He was teasing her using her own words. Usually that would annoy her no end, but she almost found herself smiling. She forced it down just out of principle though the corner of her mouth rose traitorously.

She had smiled just the tiniest bit but when he saw it he felt his heart flip in repsonse. Just as she was about to answer, he heard Crystal call out his name to close out the tab of the 2 older men who had been seated at the bar for hours. ‘ _Finally_ ,’ he thought. Maybe the bar would start clearing out since the game was over.

“Sorry, I'll be right back.”

It took longer than he thought and he fully expected to find the beautiful woman (whose name was Cara apparently) gone with a few bills thrown down to cover her drink, but she was still there, looking more relaxed but not much happier.

He stood so he was directly in front of her to get her attention before speaking. “Here, I know what will make you feel better,” he said mysteriously, as he showed her the fronts and backs of his open hands.

She looked at him in question as he crumpled up a square napkin in his hand and closed a fist around it to shape it into a ball. He then proceeded to pass the balled-up Hilton napkin back and forth between his closed fists and then behind his head and behind his back several times.

When he was done, he presented his closed fists in front of her. "Where is it?" he asked, and waited for her to play along.

"Are you serious right now?" was her response of disbelief. One of her eyebrows was higher than the other as she took in the situation.

"Yeah,” he said, “ _well_ , as serious as a middle-aged man doing magic tricks in a bar can be."

When she didn’t make a move, he encouraged her again. “Come on. No one can be miserable with magic tricks.”

She sighed and finally went along with it. "Fine," she huffed, and tapped his right hand. Din opened it but it was empty. 

He proceeded to pass it back and forth again, but this time when he put his hands behind his head, he clearly tossed it over his shoulder. She snorted a laugh when she saw it go flying and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Din presented his hands again and for the second time asked her, “which one?”

She scoffed and replied, “neither, obviously.”

Din looked put-out but she could tell the pout was fake. “You're no fun,” he said. “Come on, guess.”

She tapped his right hand and it was empty as she knew it would be.

He wiggled his left and she tapped that one too, knowing it would be empty. She almost felt bad for ruining his trick until he opened his fist to show the crumpled up napkin. She had never even seen him pick up a second one—he got her. ‘ _Okay. That was cute_ ,’ she thought but she couldn’t say that so instead she said the other thought at the forefront of her mind. “You're a dork.”

He laughed a real laugh then and she couldn’t help but smile in return. Din couldn’t lie and say he’d never been called a dork before, but the way she said it made it feel like a compliment. He could be a goofball if it made her face light up like it just had. “You haven't even seen ' _dork_ ’ yet,” he said, obviously taking it as a challenge. 

He turned to the counter behind him ,grabbed three ceramic coffee mugs, and placed them upside down on the counter. She watched as he put an olive from the garnish box under the far right one. He shuffled them back and forth: the left one went to the middle and the middle one went to the right, over and over. She knew she was supposed to follow the olive, so she watched it like a hawk. ‘ _This is ridiculous_ ,’ she thought but she couldn’t deny its effectiveness. It was working—the stress and worry from the day melted away and was filled with warmth and amusement and a distraction that happened to have a nice smile.

He shuffled them over and over until they came to a rest. She was certain she had kept her eye on the one containing the olive the whole time. 

“Well, make your guess,” he said, and she confidently tapped the one on the right. He tilted it back toward himself to show her it was empty.

_Well fuck._

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he says, like you would comfort a grumpy child. “To be fair, you got it right. It was under there at some point..... just not now”

He's teasing her again but it’s good-natured and fun and it only makes her smile. “Try the other ones,” he says. She picked up the mugs and there were two olives; one under each. She refused to smile and so she took a sip of her lime drink to hide her lips. He couldn’t very well eat the used olives or put them back in the garnish box so he flicked the first one and watched it land on the floor. He must have flicked the second one harder than he thought because it flew through the air. Cara watched in horror as it landed in the glass of beer belonging to the guy siting next to her and when it splashed foam all over the counter she nearly spit out her drink. Some of it might have actually made its way out her nose….

She turned away and covered her hand with her mouth to cover her snicker as she heard Din's rushed apology of "sorry about that sir, let me grab you another beer," before the guy even noticed what had gone on.

When Din reappeared with a new beer from the tap after making his way down the bar to check on the other customers he was grinning like an idiot and she knew she was too. 

It was approacing midnight the next time he had to run to the back for more oranges to slice up, but Crystal stopped him just as he was making his way back to the bar.

“Just so you know I'm talking all your tables so you can focus on that woman.”

“What?” he asked, unsure if he heard her correctly.

“If you get lucky, I'll keep the tips. If you don't get lucky, then I'll split them with you. You win either way with no work on your part except flirting with that hot chick.”

He looks around, frantically. “I am NOT getting lucky with her. Keep your voice down, for kriff’s sake,” he hisses, as he looks rapidly back and forth in case someone could her them.

It did sounds like a win-win though. He knew nothing would come of it, but he really did like talking to her. He hasn't had such an enjoyable night at work _ever_.

“Why not go for it? Crystal asks, not understanding his reluctance, “she's hot.”

“She's not going to be interested in me,” he says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so self-deprecating but it’s the truth. “Look at her…”

“She was laughing a minute ago,” Crystal argues with him as he’s holding the crate of oranges slightly tighter.

“Yeah, because I was being an idiot…..”

“Maybe she's into that,” she offers helpfully. “Go for it. I've never seen you interested in anyone before.”

“I'm not having this conversation with you,” he insists, as he walks around her.

“Give it your best shot,” he hears her call out after him, “I’ll cover your tables!”

. 

“So, you feel better yet?” Din asks as he returns to stand in front of her. “The flying olive was totally part of the trick.”

“Yeah, surprisingly I do,” she replies, and is surprised to find she really means it. “Thanks. Except for the drink up my nose, I mean.”

He handed her a napkin and she wiped it along her upper lip and under her nose to erase the evidence of her undignified margarita-filled snort.

Out of the corner of his eye Din saw Crystal schmoozing with the customers at the far end of the bar and he knew exactly what she was doing--she was trying to give him a break. She had the whole other side of the bar and the three remaining tables under control. It was almost midnight and people were starting to leave. 

He took a deep breath. _Give it a shot. Right. He was taking advice from a 22-year old who used a glass as an ice scoop. Just great._

“So, uh Cara, right?” he said, and she nodded

“Where'd you fly in from?”

"LAX," she replied.

“Los Angeles?” he said, sounding surprised. “And you're heading to Miami? That's a pretty far trip. It can't be for the sun or the sand, you already have both of those in L.A..

"No trips to the beach for me,” she said sadly. “It's just for one day of work then I hop on a plane right back home."

“What do you do?” he asked.

Cara sighed. That was a perfectly reasonable next question, but she knew this was where it was going to go to hell--it always did when she told people what she did. The reactions were always varied but they were always weird and uncomfortable and any interest in her petered out shortly after. _That question was like a curse, though what did she have to lose this time? She was talking to a perfect stranger in a bar who just happened to have nice hands. So what if he judged her?_

“I'm a personal trainer. I used to compete in a lot of fights and fitness competitions--martial arts and hand to hand combat, that sort of thing.

She was surprised when he didn’t immediately jump at what she said or make some comment about her muscles; he focused on the logistics on her travel instead. “You're a personal trainer but you have to fly to Miami for a client? They must be a pretty big client,” he replied.

“No, I also manage a lot of gyms for other people and do grand openings and high visibility things like that. I'm the guest of honor and business partner at a new fitness center opening in Miami and I'm supposed to be there for the ribbon cutting and all that jazz.” 

_wait for it......_

_He's going to laugh, she just knows it._

_She was already braced for it._

“That sounds really exciting!” he said, and even his body language seemed interested in what she was saying. She had been primed and ready to defend herself. "Wait, what?" she asked genuinely surprised he didn't have some smart comment to make about her career. Sometimes it sounded lame even to her.

"That’s an incredible job. You help people achieve their goals for a living: fitness, or entrepreneurial, or both. That's pretty amazing. You must have changed a lot of people’s lives.” 

She had never really thought about it like that. The shock must have been evident on her face, but he didn’t mention it. At times after she left the ring, she felt like a sellout or like she wasn’t living up to her potential as just someone behind the scenes building professional relationships and managing everyday clients, but this wasn’t one of those times. He made her feel proud about what she did for the first time in a long time.

“How many businesses have you supported like that?” he asked.

She responded that she was getting close to 20. 

“And you said you're a fighter......or were?”

“I don't do it much anymore but yeah. That used to be my career; though when you say it like that it sounds like I get into brawls in back alleys.” She was smiling which made his less worried that he had managed to accidentally offend her.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I don't know anything about that sport. So, it's like, fights that people bet money on or like friendly sparring tournaments and demonstrations?”

“The former,” she tells him, sounding amused. “The fights are real; not a demonstration or staged in any way. Just two people beating the ever-loving shit out of each other.”

"Holy shit." _That was so fucking hot._

They talked for almost another hour about her career as it was now and how she had gotten there from martial arts.

“Your life sounds really exciting.”

“Sometimes.”

‘It was exciting at times, she could admit that, but it was lonely too,’ she thinks, as she downs the last of her water she had been drinking after her one margarita. She didn't have much time for friends and zero time for dating--not that there was a line at her door or anything. The past two and half hours she had spent talking to Din had been the closest she had felt to anyone in a long time. He didn't seem to be humoring her or just being friendly out of professional courtesy either. He even seemed happier than when she first saw him despite it being quite late now; well after midnight, actually. 

He reached for her empty glass at the same time she reached to push it toward him, and their fingers brushed against each other. Instead of jerking back they both kind of lingered. She knew the fluttering in her stomach and the warmth that was uncurling in her abdomen had nothing to do with the drink she had consumed—she was completely sober. She was drinking mostly water now anyway with Din who had poured himself a glass as well. Their hands seemed to gravitate toward each other and it wasn't until a loud case of clean glasses hit the bar top that they broke apart.

“Do you mind if I come around? It’s easier to talk that way,” Din asked, as the bar was pretty much empty now. He was giving her every opportunity to gracefully bow out if she wanted to. She could sneak away or claim to had to be up early but she didn't. 

“Sure.”

He sat next to her at the bar with their legs naturally facing one another and it wasn't several minutes later their knees were brushing together. 

He only had a short time until the bar closed but he wanted to know more about her. “So, is this business partner thing the height of your career? Have you reached the top yet? I mean you must be pretty successful if people are asking you to lend your name and your face.” He left it pretty open to see what she would say.

She had never told another person about _this dream of hers,_ but for some reason she just wanted to say it out loud. To _him_ \--she wanted to share it with _him_. It wasn't just the anonymity of a bartender she met at a Hilton in O'Hare--it was Din she wanted to talk to. There was something about him she just felt-- not in her head, but everywhere else. She felt like she had known him for such a long time. She never believed in any of that past lives bullshit or waving crystals around, but she couldn't explain it. She knew he would understand and support her--this stranger she just met. She just knew it. 

“Actually…..” she said, before she chickened out.

He looked so genuinely interested in what she was saying that gave her the courage to just put it out there. “Actually, my real dream has always been to open a fitness complex of my own. Not someone else’s brand and not with partners--just me. I want my own gym one day.”

He's staring at her.

“Does that sound stupid?”

“No, not at all. Tell me about it.”

And she did. She told him about the complex she envisioned; the classes, the virtual training for introverts or those who were only starting out and found the gym atmosphere intimidating, the layout--all of it. Even the reasoning behind it. 

“I had this coach when I was just starting out. Everyone called him Big Mike but he was a giant teddy bear. He was the best mentor I ever had when I was a kid; more of a father than a coach. He believed in me when my family life was hell and when I was just an angry defiant kid who lost all the time and had still had something to prove. Even after I got older, turned more professional, and outgrew his level of coaching, he never stopped believing in me. He was there at every fight—no matter how far away it was. No one knew I could be successful like he seemed to. He watched me open gym after gym for other people and he always told me I'd open my own one day, he just knew it.

“He always told me to live my dream, not just everyone else’s. He died two years ago but when I opened the first gym for a client that had my name attached to it, he gave me a card with some cash in it; one of the bills was special though, and I've kept it in my wallet all this time. He didn't have much money but he gave me what he had and told me it was for _my_ dream. Everyone else thought it was stupid or unachievable, but not Michael. I told myself I'd hang it up when I finally opened my own place in memory of him.” She chuckles as her story comes to an end though her eyes still seem far away. “The number of times he held an ice pack to my face and made a stupid joke to make me feel better.....I miss that idiot.”

Thinking about her mentor who's no longer with her she is horrified and embarrassed to feel her eyes get wet and she wipes at them twice and pretends like nothing happened. He doesn't want her to feel embarrassed, but he can't just pretend he didn’t see her make those half-hearted swipes at her face. “Hey,” he says gently, “the only one who can cry in my bar is me. Do you need more magic tricks?” He reaches over for a handful of coffee creamers for another display, _ready to make a fool of himself just to see her smile_ , but she jumps at him and covers his hand with hers.

“Gods, no. Please don't,” she says, but she's laughing so his mission was a success. 

“I'm glad you had somebody like that,” he says to her. “How much longer until you can have your own place?”

“L.A. is so expensive, so probably another year doing these appearances and training clients one on one.”

“That’s pretty soon,” he says optimistically, and she nods. She’s tired of talking about herself and wants to hear about him; this strange man who has drawn her in so effortlessly despite his goofy smile.

“So, what's your dream?” she asks him. It's only then does he realize her hand is still over his as he has to regretfully withdraw it to reach into his pocket.

He pulls out his cell phone, scrolls to find a picture and holds it out to her. It’s a picture of him in a short-sleeved shirt but she can't focus on the dark tattoo under his sleeve because her eyes are drawn to the beautiful little boy in his arms. He was perfect--sandy blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. He was so very different from Din but the look of pure love and adoration on his face was clear--this was his son. 

“This is Alex,” Din says, practically exuding happiness just looking at his boy’s face.

His whole face lit up and she could feel his pride, so she tried to push down the sickening feeling of disappointment she felt that he was unavailable.

 _Figures….. She actually likes another human being for the first time in probably ten years and he’s spoken for. She felt the weirdest stab of jealousy at a woman who was beautiful enough to snag Din and create such a perfect child with him. ‘Of course he was taken,’_ she thinks _. Just because she didn't see a wedding ring was no reason to think that a handsome, smart, funny, quick-witted, kind man would be interested in her. Of course, he wasn't available, but why did that make her chest hurt so much?_

She tries to be pleasant and puts a smile on her face. “His hair is gorgeous. I'm guessing your wife must be blonde?”

She’s surprised and a little delighted when Din actually blushes. His cheeks are pink above his beard.

"No, uh,” he stammers. "No wife." He tries to explain in abbreviated summary. "He's my son but he's adopted. We don't share any genetics"

Cara felt surprisingly and selfishly relieved at knowing he's single. That probably makes her a terrible person. After all, he deserves to have a beautiful wife who loves him and raises his son with him.

“It’s a long and complicated story but a distant friend of the family shouldn't have had a baby but chose to anyway. She struggled with addiction and had absolutely no interest in being a mother-- just wanted to use Alex as a tool to trap her boyfriend. The boyfriend left and her interest in her son left too."

“How horrible,” Cara says, and finds herself feeling protective of a child she doesn’t even know.

Din continues. “She was giving him up and I couldn't stand the thought of him going into the foster care system so I stepped in. I fostered him myself for a while, until I could prove I was a suitable placement for him in the eyes of the court. She signed over her rights, I adopted him, and she couldn’t get out of Dodge fast enough. She disappeared and no one's heard from her in 5 years. I never looked back. Best decision I ever made.” 

“That's amazing. You must be such a great dad. I can tell.”

“I don't know about that,” he says rubbing his neck self-consciously, “but you asked what my dream is and it's _him_. His dreams are my dreams.

“You're really selfless. Not everyone could do what you did.” There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm in her voice which was rare for her. She was really in awe of this man who just changed his whole life one day to take in a child who had no one. 

“I'm definitely not selfless. It's just _him_ , he makes it easy. There was never a choice. He deserves everything.”

“Your face lights up when you talk about him.”

“I wish I could give him better things, you know. Being a bartender doesn't really cover his college savings fund, but I try.

“You're doing the best you can and that means everything,” she insists. “Money isn’t what’s important to him. Being loved and having a safe home is the best gift you could ever give him.

“Thanks.” It should feel awkward talking about this with a stranger but it doesn't.

She seems so kind and caring. ‘ _She’d be a natural mother if she isn’t already,_ ’ he thinks.

“Do you have any kids?” he asks her.

“No.”

“Husband?” he asks, not holding his breath at all.

“No.”

“Wife?”

She smirks. “No. No spouse whatsoever.”

“Single and ready to mingle?”

She laughs and they both take a sip of water now that some of the heavy conversation seemed to be past them. “Yes, to the first part. As for the second, I can't mingle worth a damn.”

“Me neither.”

“Good thing we both work so much then I guess.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Neither one of them says a word for a few minutes, but where the silence should be oppressive or awkward, it just isn't. It's not the alcohol that’s long since left her system, but she feels warm and the air between them feels warm too. Even without having a riveting conversation going, neither one of them seem to want to move away so they just linger. 

He remembers something she had said earlier and circles back to it. “You said you've had ice pressed to your face. You’re telling me you've actually been punched?”

“Oh yeah,” she says with a sympathetic wince to what she’s put her poor face through over the years.

He’s shocked. “You mean like what? Once or twice?

She laughed and bit her bottom lip and he was transfixed. “Something like that…….”

“B-But you're wearing a helmet to protect your face, right?”

She laughs. “No, no helmet. Though if I do it right, I’m the one doing the punching,” she explains. “I was pretty good, so I didn't get hit a lot.”

“I find that hard to believe. There’s no way your nose has ever been broken--your face is too perfect.” He didn’t even mean to say that it just slipped out. He tried not to be embarrassed. Afterall, it was true. Her face was perfect. 

“It's been broken,” she tells him, “but like I said. If I do it right I don't get punched and I usually did it right. You learn to keep your hands up to protect your face. Actually, it's weird keeping my hands to my side sometimes, even now. Despite all the public appearances and events, I'm pretty shy so it's easier to hide in the gym sometimes.” He nods, but she’s not sure he understands the want to not be the center of attention. "You seem very....." she trails off, as she makes an animated gesture with her hands, “……sociable.” 

He chuckles at that observation. “Thanks, but it’s quite the opposite. I used to always hide my face. I have a scar down the full side of my cheek. I was really self-conscious about it for years, before could grow a beard to cover it up. He pushes some of his beard aside to reveal the line of scar tissue. She can't help it--she reaches up and touches his face; her fingers taking in the texture of his beard. She brushes it aside with a gentle caress and she can just see the faint raised line of a scar underneath. It travels almost the length of his cheek.

The feel of her hands on his face and smoothing through his beard is distracting but he manages to explain how he got it. “I want to tell you it was fighting off a shark while scuba diving off of Cape Town, but it was a car accident when I was a kid.” Before she can even get out an ‘ _oh my god’_ at what she assumes must have been a traumatizing experience for a kid, he interrupts her.

“……. and by _car accident_ I mean I rode by bike into a parked car with a cracked bumper when I was 10.”

Something about the way he says it lets her know he wants it to be a funny story and not a story meant to garner sympathy. Her lips curve up the smallest fraction and his do the same. The silly look on his face is too much and suddenly she's laughing. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry, it shouldn't be funny ....”

“See?” he says proudly, “I can take a hit to the face too. Totally the same.”

Her face is hurting from smiling so much but she can’t possibly prevent it with Din grinning like that.

………….

Chapter 2 is up next


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It’s almost one in the morning and she knows it’s almost closing time, but she doesn’t want the night to be over and she can tell he doesn’t either.

"So, what is Alex into now?" she asks, interested in her own right but also wanting to see his face with that sweet joyful expression one more time before they have to part ways. "How old is he?"

“He just turned five. He's super into cars and bikes already,” he replies, before getting a weird contemplative look on his face. “Hopefully not into cars and bikes like my face was though…..”

He could make fun of himself so easily and he didn’t have a big ego at all. _Fuck. She liked this guy a lot._

“Your house is going to be so filled with cars soon,” she tells him happily. “You'll be stepping on them in the middle of the night, mark my words.” 

“Yeah, no kidding. Right now, _everything_ is cars,” he tells her in agreement. “He even wants this car-bed we saw in the store. It's like a plastic car frame but the mattress is inside it. You probably have no clue what I'm talking about do you?”

She knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I do, actually," she tells him, and is satisfied to see the look of pleasant surprise on his face. "I had a car bed as a kid. Even though I was a girl my parents let me get it and took plenty of shit for it because little girls should have a princess bed,” she remembers fondly. “It was a red car and my name was written on the little fake license plate. I can't tell you how many pretend adventures I had with that car,” she tells him before making a funny face and asking, “seriously, what the hell was I going to do with a princess bed?”

He laughs at that image in his head. She would have been so outraged with a princess bed, he just knows it. He feels like he knows this woman in a way that doesn’t fit with only meeting her four hours ago. He teases her. “You could totally pull off a princess bed, even now.”

She cocks her head to the side and challenges him. “Do I _look_ like a princess to you?”

He challenges her right back, clearly teasing her. “Am I _supposed_ to lie and say no?” ‘ _She wasn't a princess at all though_ ,’ he thought. _She would be a queen, or a goddess; perfectly created in the image of a warrior while still soft and delicate._

“Shut up.....” she said, and smacked him in the arm but his ridiculous grin only got bigger. “So, you going to get him the bed from the store?” she asks.

“I wish I could, but it's like 300 bucks at Target,” he tells her regretfully. “That's a third a month's rent right now. Maybe next year....”

"You know," she says, "it'll probably be on sale around Christmas. It's not too far off."

"Yeah, I've looked already” he informs her. “The website had a preview sale and it'll be down to just over a hundred bucks. I'll see what I can do."

“I didn't mean to make you feel bad,” she tells him honestly, hoping she hasn’t made him feel guilty. “Like I said, money isn't what he'll remember. You know, just a box would be just as big of a hit. Kids love giant boxes. Give him some markers and he'll go nuts.”

“He _does_ love boxes,” he tells her, and she doesn’t seem surprised at all.

“See?” she says, loving to be right. “Cut some holes for windows and he will flip his shit. Guaranteed.”

‘ _He was such a good dad_ ,’ she thought. _That kid was damn lucky_.

Din was still grinning, which made her grin too. She had totally forgotten she was upset at having missed her flight. _Maybe she had missed it for this. For him…._

She noticed there was a group of men near the elevator that kept staring at her and whispering among themselves. She could hear bits of their conversation and even her own name thrown int here.

“Is that really Cara Dune?” she hears one of them say to his buddy and she’s suddenly slightly on edge.

Din sees Cara's reaction to being stared at and draws her attention back to him.

“Does that happen a lot?” he asks.

“Yeah, it's still weird though,” she tells him, uncomfortable with even the slightest bit of celebrity that follows her around. “At least they're not taking pictures…..”

“Just ignore them, they're assholes,” he tells her. “They have no right to stare at you just because you're.....you know....” he tries to explain, but just ends up gesturing to all of her when words fail him.

“Because I'm what?” she asks suspiciously. _What adjective would he use? She had heard them all, but she didn’t really want to hear them from Din. The night had been going so well and she had felt so ordinary it had been like a dream._

He seemed reluctant to answer, which made her even more curious how he’d describe her like everyone else did. Muscular? Strong? Big for a woman? Famous? Retired?

“Because I'm what?” she asked again, but his face looked more flushed than it had a second ago.

She figured he’d give some long explanation to explain what they must think of her but he only uttered a single word. “Beautiful.”

“What?” she asked in disbelief. That’s not what she was expecting at all.

“Oh, come on,” he said, clearly embarrassed for his description. “Don't pretend like you don't know you're gorgeous. You're breathtaking. They shouldn’t stare like that, but I can’t really blame them. I can’t take my eyes off of you either. And you’re nice and funny, and smart-mouthed.....”

He was so taken with her he wasn’t embarrassed any longer telling her how great he thought she was. She deserved to know how special she was.

She’s the one blushing now. “Cut it out with the flattery. I already like you,” she explains. “You’re _disgustingly_ likeable actually. It’s really annoying.” That was an understatement.

“Now who’s the flatterer?” he asks her, with a teasing grin that went straight to her belly.

……..

1:30 AM

Their laughter is the loudest thing in the bar now.

“So, let's see some bar tricks,” she challenges him.

“What, the crappy magic tricks weren't enough for you? Come on woman, I can only do so much!”

“I bartended in college, I bet I still remember most of it,” she tells him, hoping to goad him into another adorably dorky display.

“You want to jump back here and show me how it's done then?” he asks her, with a huge smile.

“I _would_ ,” she offers, “but I'm so amazing you'd be out of a job then and I’d feel guilty.”

He sees something in her face change and it’s not just a competition they’re talking about anymore. They’re flirting.

“Oh, ho, you're so sure,” he teases her, riling her up.

“I would totally show you up back there,” she tells him with as much of a straight face as she can.

“Confident are you?” he ribs her good-naturedly. “What if we let all these fine people judge?” he asks, sweeping his arms out in a grand gesture. There were maybe 8 men stills sitting at the tables surrounding the bar.

She looks at the pretend _‘audience’_ of men and doubles down. “Oh yeah, I'm confident.”

“And so _humble_ ,” he said sarcastically.

“And _modest._ You forgot modest, an adjective that describes me perfectly” she said

“Trust me I didn't forget. I left it out on purpose,” he tells her, as he leans closer without even realizing it.

“Those guys would vote for me hands down. You know why?” she asks him, leaning in close and crossing her arms to enhance her cleavage which was totally unnecessary. “My shirt is lower cut than yours, or hadn't you noticed?” 

He could play this game too. “Cheater,” he calls her, but it’s obviously a compliment. “I bet you’d drop _lots_ of things too. That’s playing dirty.”

He’s onto her and she loves it. She’s terrible at flirting but this is so fun she doesn’t even care she probably sounds stupid. “Completely on accident I assure you, cherries can be quite slippery.”

“It does get wet pretty often back there,” Din admits, “and when it gets wet, sometimes things just slip through your fingers.”

She agrees with him. “Cherries, glasses, _panties_ ….. it’s hard to keep stuff off the floor. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

_That little shit….._

“I had noticed your shirt, since you mentioned it, and I agree you have the advantage.” His eyes leisurely traveled down her chest since she's the one who just drew attention to it. “You really so sure you’d come out on top,” he challenged her.

She definitely heard more than just the obvious meaning behind his words and her voice lowered even more as she leaned closer to him. Their knees were no longer just touching; her knee was in-between his and she felt his thighs flex when she spoke next. “Yeah, I am,” she tells him, “though if you’d rather be on top Din, I’m sure we could work something out.”

“I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully, pretending to think it over, “there’s something to be said for being on the bottom too. Less pressure…”

“Not if you do it right, but what about this. We could take turns,” she offers as a compromise.

Din blinked a couple of times to clear his head. “Wait, what were we talking about?” he asked, only slightly joking. “I might have gotten distracted.”

She laughs with him, though the heated atmosphere surrounding them doesn’t really dissipate at all. “This bar competition I would win…..” she explains, as if he had really forgotten.

“Right. I happily admit defeat to this imaginary contest we are definitely _not having,_ so you can be on top. I’m generous like that.”

She felt her stomach flip over as had a sudden flash of him underneath her in her bed and exactly how _generous_ he would be. Her neck felt warm too. _Was she really flirting with this guy? I mean she had been for some time, but was she being this obvious about it?_

“If it makes you feel any better,” he tells her, trying to cool off, “I'd drop lots of things too. I’d lose right out of the gate. You're so beautiful I'd forget we were even having a competition at all.....”

She finally concedes she finds his handsome. “You're not terrible to look at either….”

.........

Another hour went by and Crystal was surprised the woman hadn't left a long time ago, but no.....

They were still snickering at the bar like a couple of kids.

“You’ve been a bartender for years,” she says, “have you ever noticed the truly horrible names for drinks?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Fuzzy navel,” she offers as an example. “Who wants a fuzzy belly button, that’s just weird. There’s plenty of other examples too.” They both laugh.

“Slippery nipple,” he says. “That’s another weird one.” She snorts a very inelegant sounds but so does he, so he has no room to make fun of her.

“Sex on the beach. Who calls a drink that?” she asks hypothetically, and he makes a weird face. “All that sand in uncomfortable places,” he says, as she shifts in his chair to make her cackle. “That’s just an all-around horrible idea, in practice and in drink form.” She can’t help but agree.

“Oh, the names get worse,” she assures him. “What about a red-headed slut?”

“What is that?” he asks, in mock offense of red-headed women everywhere. “Is that actually a drink?”

“Oh yeah,” she tells him with a fake gag. “It’s Jägermeister, peach-flavored schnapps, and cranberry juice.”

“Uggggh.” He made a disgusted scrunched up face that made her laugh so loud they got a couple of dirty looks from the remaining three patrons. She manages to get herself under control. “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it……”

Din couldn’t help but stare at her as her face became more animated the more relaxed she became. She had abandoned her only alcoholic drink some many hours ago and they were both sipping only on water so he knew it wasn't the cocktail that made her so warm and comfortable with him. She was enjoying laughing with him and making him laugh in return.

The way she laughed, the way she looked at him, the sound of her voice, and the way she looked--he was a total goner. He certainly wasn't looking for a quick fling or a one-night stand but if he could just have one night with her....... To lay together and feel like he does right now with her in his bed....to see what her hair would look like across his pillow, to smell her on his sheets…..

‘ _It wasn't fair_ ,’ he thought ruefully. To finally meet someone he felt a connection to and then have to watch her walk away…. He felt like there was really something there. It went deeper than sexual attraction or affection for her sweet and funny personality--he liked _her_.

He wished they had more time.

He knew nothing would ever come of it and there was no future there with this beautiful stranger, but he didn't want the night to end. It’s been such a long time since he felt like this:

…special

…attractive

…funny

……………….wanted. 

This beautiful woman had made him feel all these things and he wasn’t sure how she managed it in such a short time, but he knew it was almost over.

2:30 AM.

Half an hour past closing time.

She hands him her credit card to settle her tab but when he returns it in the black check presenter, she almost seems reluctant to take it back. She knows once the bill is paid and the bar closes down, she'll have no reason to stick around and they'll go their separate ways. She's not ready for the night to be over yet either.

"I wish you were staying through tomorrow,” he says honestly, no longer holding back what he really feels. _There’s no time left_. “I'd get you coffee in the morning and show you the town.”

She lets her knees rub against his and she's long since kicked off her shoes, so her foot touches his ankle playfully. She leans further against the bartop and she nearly spills out of her plunging neckline. She has a cheeky grin on her face so be braces himself for her next words. “Coffee in the morning, Din?” she says, and exaggerates the surprise in her voice to make it sound more scandalous than she knows he intended it to be. “Sounds like a nice invitation, though I usually don't do the one-night stand thing,” she teases him, as she not only grins, but grazes her teeth over her bottom lip. 

He spits out his drink and grabs a napkin. “T-that's not what I meant! he says quickly, and the words just pour out of his mouth. “I don't do that either. I just meant we co--, unless you want—"

He’s saved by the booming voice of his boss across the lobby. "Hey Din! Time to go, you should have closed down half an hour ago!”

She rubs her hand down his back as he stops coughing. “I was just teasing you, don't choke,” she tells him though her face feels warm at her own suggestive words. “I should really go,” she says reluctantly, “it's late and I have to be at my gate in just over 5 hours.” _She'll barely get any sleep at all at this rate, but she doesn’t regret a minute of it._

He lets out a sigh. The night is over.

“Can I walk you to the elevator at least?”

She was surprised but she wasn’t sure why; he was such a gentleman.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

She grabs her jacket off the back of the chair and wheels her carry-on bag behind her as they walk across the marble floor together.

He reaches across to push the elevator call button for her when they get to the end of the lobby. The door opens but she doesn't immediately step inside. She hesitates before handing him something. “Just toss it out if I'm totally off base, but here's my number. If you're ever in L.A., I'll buy you that scandalous morning coffee.”

She hands over one of the hotel napkins where she wrote her number. He reached out to take it, but instead of pulling her hand back afterward she let their fingers linger against one another’s. The elevator closed again without her in it, but neither of them seem to notice. He caressed his thumb over the delicate skin on the back of her hand and she actually shivered. She let her fingers ghost over his knuckles and her pinky curled just slightly around his and he smiled at her in response. He was just opening his mouth to say something stupid when---

“Din! Seriously, close down the bar! It's almost 3!” His boss…..God dammit.

“You should probably go,” she says rationally. She didn't want him to get in trouble with his boss. 

“Yeah I guess.” He pushes the call button again.

The elevator door opens almost immediately, and he holds it open just a second longer once she steps inside.

“Good night,” she tells him, and tries not to make it sounds sad. ‘ _Gods she is so lame,’_ she thinks _. She couldn’t think of anything better to say than that? She could have thanked him for turning her whole night around or for making her feel proud about her work and believing in her dream for the first time in two years since her mentor passed away, but she couldn’t manage to say anything remotely eloquent. How would she say all that in an elevator bay anyway?_

“Good night,” he says in return. He feels like an idiot as soon as the words left his mouth. _Shouldn’t he have said good morning? It's almost 3 in the morning._

“Good night,” she says again, not really noticing what she said until it already came out. _Didn't she already say that? Jesus Christ….he must think she’s so lame._

The door chimes at them for being held open so long.

“Have a safe flight,” he tells her, as he pulls his hand back from the door when she steps inside.

She gives him a sassy look. “If the plane's going down there's nothing I can do, but I’ll try my best,” she says.

He grins at her one last time. “Have you tried flapping your arms? I've heard that helps.”

She flips him off as the door closes and he laughs. The last thing he saw as the door closed was her beautiful smile directed at him.

As soon as the door closes, she rests her head back against the wall of the elevator. _She just made a total idiot of herself. ‘Could she have possibly been any more lame?’_ she thinks.

Din practically mirrors her three feet away. He stares at the closed doors for several second before he rests his forehead against the cool marble of the wall to collect himself. ‘ _Could he have possibly come across as more awkward? Was that even possible?’_ he asks himself, ashe walks back to his section to wrap up for the late night. 

He pats his pockets once he gets back to the bar, but they both feel empty. For a second, he panics as he can't find the napkin. _Did he drop it?_

It's in his pants pocket, just folded over. He looks at it for the first time and sees she even wrote her name on it. _Like he could ever forget her name…._

He runs through the motions of closing up the bar, but his heart isn't in it. It's somewhere else, on an elevator, getting ready to turn in for the night. He packs up the garnishes and put them in the cooler, covers the pour spouts, and wipes down everything. He washes all the jiggers and dries them with a clean towel, all without even looking at what he's doing--he's on autopilot.

Crystal comes over with an expectant look on her face. “So, how'd it go Casanova?”

He was grinning like an idiot. “Well, she gave me her number.”

“Look at you! I knew she was into you,” she says triumphantly.

“By the way,” she says, “I grabbed this for you in case the boss started to wipe down the bar while you were off making goo-goo eyes at the elevator.” She already has her apron removed and was walking out the door before catching him. She hands over the last black folding check presenter and puts it in his hands. “I'll see you tomorrow, Din.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he replies, but he’s still thinking about someone else.

He still has to file all his receipts for the night before he can head out, so he grabs all the sleek black books and puts them in a pile to go through one by one. He's so tired but he's still high on whatever it was that Cara exuded that had him so enraptured. He opens her black book first and sees her receipt. Her name on the credit card is printed below the line where her signature stares back at him in blue ink. He has to enter all his tips for the night and he looks to the lines for the total and tip and feels only a slight stab of disappointment to see that the tip area is filled with a zero and a line through it. She didn't leave a tip…..

He refuses to be disappointed though. He had the best night of his life getting to talk and laugh with her for hours. It was so much better than three or four one-dollar bills would have been.

He pulls out the receipt and freezes halfway to read something he sees written across the bottom in her messy handwriting:

- **Buy your kid the bed he wants**

As he pulls the receipt up to look at it more closely, something falls out behind it on the counter.

It was a hundred-dollar bill. He looked around the bar expecting to see his co-workers playing a joke on him, but no one else was left around. It was just him.

 _‘A hundred dollars._ _That couldn't be for him_ ,’ he thinks. Apparently, it wasn't for him at all according to the note. It was for Alex. 

He turned the currency over in his hand and saw there was writing on the back, but it wasn’t hers.

**Carasynthia,**

**You help everyone else live their dream. It's time to live yours too. I couldn't be more proud of you.**

**Michael**

………………..


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cara catches her flight, makes her opening, and even cuts a ribbon holding half of a pair of giant scissors but her heart isn’t in it. It’s not until she gets back to her hotel near the airport in Miami that she lets herself realize why--she’s been thinking about Din. She wished she could have told him about today. She wished he was _here_ now too. Her bed sheets are cool but she can imagine his warm body next to hers.

‘ _She was such an idiot,_ ’ she thought to herself. He was never going to call her and she had been too chicken to ask for his number. She needs to put him out of her mind, but she can’t. It might not have meant anything to him, but it had seemed so real to her and she didn’t want to forget the way he made her feel. He probably just took the napkin with her number on it to not hurt her feelings. There was no way he was actually interested in her. He seemed like such a good guy which meant she'd probably never hear from him again. It was a really wonderful night though. It had made her feel confident and strong and beautiful in a way she hadn't felt in years and it was thanks to him. Even if he never called her, she'd still carry that feeling with her for years to come. 

Din thought about Cara on Saturday and again on Sunday. He hoped she made her flight. He hoped she made her event and that she made a great impression like he knew she would. He wondered if she thought about him at all.

He felt his thoughts getting away from him. Maybe she gave him a fake number or maybe she was just being polite. Maybe she wanted to let him down easy because she wasn't interested and he was clearly interested in her. ‘ _This was probably a bogus number,_ ’ he thinks, as he stares at the napkin for the twentieth time that day.

He put Alex down for a nap that he fought like a chicken in a bathtub, gathered his courage, and just pressed send.

**_How was your flight? Did you make your event?_ **

_Wait...should he have said who it was?_ Should he have added _'this is Din from the airport'_. Who was he kidding? She wouldn't reply anyway even if it actually was her number. 

His phone chimes and he almost doesn’t want to look at it, but curiosity won out, so he turned it over

**_I flapped my arms like you said. It helped keep the plane up._ ** **You might have saved my life :)**

He grinned at his phone so hard his face hurt.

 ** _I told you_** He texted her back and wondered if she could feel his smugness through the phone.

 ** _I’m about to board a plane. Can I text you back when I get home?_** was the next message he received.

 ** _Yeah. I want to hear how the opening went._** He wondered if that was too forward. _Did it sound demanding? Did he sound desperate?_

**_It’s 5 and a half hour flight. Will you be awake?_ **

**_I’ll be up._ **

Or she could just let him know she got home safe tomorrow if she’s tired. She must be tired of flying already. He wanted to say all of that but didn’t want to make her phone go crazy. _Ugh…He was pathetic. How could he miss her already? He just met her. He wasn’t some crazy stalker. Cool it down Din. She probably wasn’t even into you. She was just being polite. There’s no way she would be interested in you._

He’s surprised when his phone chimes again and he picks it up.

**_Actually, I have a question maybe you can help me with._ **

****

**_Of course. What is it?_** he responds.

A few minutes go by before she responds and he wonders if she changed her mind, before her message finally comes though.

**_There’s another opening next month in NY. My agent just asked me what connection I wanted. You see a lot of travelers, so I could use your opinion._ **

**_What are your choices?_** He asks, though a funny feeling was creeping up the back of his neck.

Her first message comes through followed by four others

**_Dallas_ **

**_Minneapolis/St. Paul_ **

**_Chicago_ **

**_Or Raleigh_ **

**_Which one you think?_** Her final message came through and he did a double take at his phone.

Cara felt like she might be sick as she waited for his reply. _She had never been that direct in her life. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she coming on too strong? Would he think she was desperate? She just wanted to see him again even if it was a month away._

He responded with a question of his own

**_Do you like pizza?_ **

**_Ummm, yes. Who doesn’t?_ **

She wasn’t sure where this was going but she figured ‘ _yes_ ’ was the right answer.

She sees the little dots indicating he was typing, and she held her breath waiting to be let down easy. Maybe she read into the question wrong.

**_NY style pizza is a travesty. If you like pizza you should visit Chicago. There’s a pizza place not even 20 minutes from the airport that’s a hole in the wall but the best in town._ **

She smiled before texting again. ** _Maybe you could tell me the name of it?_**

**_Or I could take you. My treat?_ **

_‘Be brave Cara,’ she tells herself._

**_Are you asking me out on a date?_ **

**_Yes?_ ** **_;)_ **

****

Time goes by and she doesn’t know what to say though she feels relieved she hadn’t just imagined this thing between them. She’s horrible at flirting though and she pauses again before typing and then deleting it several times.

When several moments go by, he types again.

**_That is, if you want. If you just want a friend to show you around, I can do that._ **

**_I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I know I’m lame._ **

She types her response before he can get the wrong idea from her awkward silence. She’s quiet because she doesn’t know what to say, not because she’s not interested.

**_I’d like it if it was a date. And you’re not lame. Well kind of…. :p_ **

She hoped the little smiley face at the end was enough to convey her teasing. She was getting too old for this.

****

**_Flatterer <3 _ **

His response came through and she could almost hear it in his voice; she smiled just imagining it.

‘ _This felt so much easier than she would have imagined,_ ’ she thought. She’s going to have to wipe that stupid smile off her face before she made it back to the office or she’ll never hear the end of it.

Din was grinning at his phone like an idiot too. If he sees her again, he could slip her bill back to her--he didn’t want to send it in the mail and he certainly couldn’t spend it, though the gesture touched him more than he would admit. She was too good to be real and he was going to see her again in a month. He guesses it’s true what they say:

You never know who you’ll meet in an airport.

**Author's Note:**

> Well.......  
> how was it for an AU?
> 
> Next up: Back to our regularly scheduled programming of two space idiots in love....figuring out they're in love :)


End file.
